Harry Potter…Dragon Rider?
by Rosieobe
Summary: Three years after Murtagh left the Empire to hide away, Thorn convinces him to start over somewhere new. Eragon helps him start over where he can finally be himself, where he could have a family…in a new world. Harry Potter was a baby very like Murtagh. Raised by those who hate, with the expectations of those in power upon him. Murtagh decides to be his family.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

Murtagh was lonely. He and Thorn had been hiding out up north for close to three years now. He no longer felt quite so disgusted with himself, but he couldn't face going back to the Empire, or anywhere in Alagaësia. He would never be accepted, he would always be feared. And he knew that if he saw the faces of all the families whose sons had died, whose lives were irretrievably changed, all his guilt would smack him in the face again. Thorn had been going over everything they'd done in the war with him, pestering him constantly for the first year, making him accept that it wasn't all his fault. And Murtagh knew that he could, sort of, accept that now. At least, Thorn was no longer shouting speeches about acceptance, and the dangers of self-loathing into his head, so he presumed he was closer to a healthy mental state. So, Murtagh knew he was lonely, but wasn't sure of what to do about it.

"Youngling," Thorn forced himself into Murtagh's head. He'd been trying to keep him out as he sulked, but apparently it hadn't worked, "go to Eragon. He will be able to help you."

Murtagh shook his head emphatically, adding a mental refusal as well. He'd never be able to confront Eragon, not after what he'd done to him. He had just been going over the fact that he couldn't face total strangers whom the war might have affected, how could he face Eragon, who was his brother, whom he'd tried to kill on multiple occasions?

"You know that is why you must go to him. He is a good person. Because of that, he has already forgiven you. To see someone who has forgiven us will help you, I'm sure."

"I don't care!" Murtagh shouted aloud. Thorn crawled over to his side, and Murtagh flung himself into the cavity on Thorn's shoulder, unconsciously taking the spot he'd seen Eragon sit on Saphira countless times, in the moments when he'd scryed him. From those moments, he knew Eragon had forgiven him, he'd overheard Eragon discussing himself with Saphira and the older dragon's Eldunari countless times in the first year. He'd been a popular topic of debate for a while, but eventually, they'd forgiven him. Problem was, Murtagh didn't think they should have.

"Don't think like that! They have forgiven you, get over it, you stinky human!" Thorn shouted at him, nearly bursting his eardrums with the volume of the roar that accompanied his thoughts. "We need a change of scenery," Thorn continued more moderately, "you know we can't stay here forever, the way you've been thinking, I'd have to start over again with my lectures." Murtagh shuddered briefly. You never want a dragon lecturing you. It involves lots of teeth showing, vivid mental pictures of what the dragon will do to you if you don't comply with whatever they're saying, and, to top it all, a thousand pound weight on your chest, with claws ready and willing to impale you if you even try to get away. That had continued for the first several months, until Thorn judged that Murtagh had improved enough to pay attention without external motivators. Thorn continued gently, "We need a new start, Murtagh, and Eragon is the only one I trust to get us there."

Murtagh considered carefully. While he was comfortable enough where he was, Murtagh knew, that to be truly content, he needed to leave Alagaësia all together, start afresh, and be who he'd always wanted to be. Have a family. Thorn was a good start, but ever since he was a young boy, and knew what it meant, Murtagh had always wanted family. To love and be loved. Thorn was more like an extension of himself than a brother. He wanted to be the best he could possibly be. Help people. If he needed to confront Eragon, the family he should have had, to get that, then so be it. Their relationship was too messed up to be what he really wanted. It might have been all his fault that it got that way, but the point stood, they could never have that strong familial bond that Murtagh wanted so badly. He sighed, his mind made up. "Well, what are we waiting for? Let's go."

Harry was tremendously confused. His Mama and Dada weren't coming, and he was calling for them. That never happened, even when Unc'e Si was here, and Mama and Dada weren't, if he cried, Unc'e Si would go and get them. But after Mama had taken him upstairs, way too early for bedtime, and the man that wasn't Dada made more lights, like Dada and Mama made, Mama had gone to hide. And then the other man, who wasn't Dada or Unc'e Si or Unc'e 'emy, or Unc'e 'e'er, made the pretty light shine in his eyes, and when Harry could see again, he was gone too. So he was confused, tonight wasn't like any other night, and he was thirsty, and tired, and his head hurt, and none of that would go away without Mama or Dada to do something!

Thorn was flying slowly over the Hadarac Desert. Murtagh was asleep, strapped into the saddle on his back. Thorn didn't understand how he could be asleep. The desert was so warm, and beautiful; practically a massage on his body, heating his muscles and loosening him up. He hadn't noticed before, but the cold of the north, and the fragile mental state of his rider, had made him tense. He did a lazy roll, awakening Murtagh. Thorn's rider woke up upside-down, barely making his eyebrow twitch. Thorn knew that Murtagh wasn't upset about being awakened, but Thorn felt a twinge of guilt anyway. His rider had been having such good dreams this time, about his time with Eragon, when they were looking for the Varden. Before he had done the things he was so ashamed of. Upon waking, all of Thorn's rider's negative emotions rolled back in. Thorn didn't truly understand all of them, but then, they were silly twolegger emotions. Thorn hadn't enjoyed fighting for Galbatorix, and knew that what they'd done for him was wrong, but he had accepted that and moved on. Murtagh held on to guilt over the people they'd killed, and sure, Thorn supposed that them dying was too bad, but he didn't lose sleep over it, not the way Murtagh did. Thorn hadn't personally known the people they'd killed, so he didn't miss them. But, Thorn mused, that was what made him the dragon, and Murtagh the human. Murtagh had to deal with all the pesky little moral quandaries.

"Hey," Murtagh murmured, sleep coating his thoughts, "you have morals too."

"Hmm," Thorn mused, "I suppose I do. I just don't let mine get in the way."

Murtagh was quiet. "Sometimes we have to. I needed this time away."

"Which is why we took it," Thorn added dryly.

"Yes, thank you." Murtagh bit sharply. He sighed, his voice quickly losing its edge. In a voice so small that Thorn had trouble hearing it in his head, Murtagh added, "because if I hadn't needed this time, what kind of person would I be?"

Thorn was impatient. His rider was getting back into self-loathing. "You'd be a dragon. Now, since you're awake, and we're over this gorgeous desert, how about we practice some manoeuvres? We haven't in so long, I almost wonder if you've forgotten them."

Murtagh took this as it was meant, a warning, and a change of topic. "You're on. Give me your worst." And Thorn immediately flipped backwards, and began corkscrewing through the air. Murtagh whooped, and grabbed on tightly. It had been a while.

Harry was still very confused. First, there had been another strange man in his room. The man had been dressed all in black, and had completely ignored him. Then, he had picked up Mama, but she was asleep, and lying on the floor. Then the man had started crying. He had stayed for ages, and no matter how loudly Harry cried, the man hadn't come to comfort him. And when he left, he'd left Mama on the floor. Didn't he know people were supposed to sleep in beds? But Mama wasn't supposed to be asleep anyway. He needed her, why wouldn't she wake up? And since the black man hadn't, why didn't Dada come to put Mama in bed. Was he asleep too? Didn't he remember that Dada's weren't supposed to be asleep when Harry's needed him?

Finally, Unc'e Si came. He was crying too. And he didn't pick up Mama! Sure, he was finally there to comfort him, but why didn't he wake Mama up to do it? Didn't he know that Mama would do it best?

A while later, a gigantic man came into Harry's room, and started yelling a bit. Of course, he didn't sound angry, but he was loud. Then, he told Unc'e Si that it was going to be okay, and said a bunch more grown-up-y stuff, none of which was about getting Mama or Dada, or about food. It was all about some Dumbledore fellow, and how he needed Harry. Well, Harry didn't want to have him. If Mama and Dada weren't coming anytime soon, then he wanted to stay with his Unc'e Si, or better, Unc'e 'emy, cause he knew how to make his head feel better, and knew all about bedtime, and made yummier food. Unc'e Si was better at games, and seemed to be around more often. He helped Harry get into all the good stuff, the stuff that Mama and Dada wouldn't always let him touch, like cookie dough, and finger paint. So Unc'e Si was high on his list of favourite people, but Unc'e 'emy would be better just now. However, when Unc'e Si passed him over to the giant man, and Harry found himself on Unc'e Si's motorbike, he figured he wouldn't be getting either. And when the giant gave him to an old, a super old guy, and Harry found himself alone in the cold, there was nothing for him to do, but to go to sleep, and hope Mama and Dada found him soon, because he wanted a lullaby, and some warm milk, and some food, and for his head to stop hurting.

Murtagh knew that he was nearing where Eragon was. While he was scrying, he hadn't been able to see a location, as he hadn't been there before, but there was a sort of pull coming from right ahead of him. He'd come across something that would create that effect in his studies at Farthen Dûr, during his house arrest. It was a spell, of sorts, that would call to anybody in the area, that fit a certain criteria. He supposed it was calling, one, to all dragon riders, and two, only to those that were looking, because he'd felt it all the way in the North, but only after he'd resolved on finding Eragon.

Murtagh nearly smiled as he saw his favourite great blue dragon flying towards him. She came in quickly, and, by unspoken agreement, Saphira and Thorn landed, barely fifteen meters apart.

"Murtagh," Eragon greeted shortly, "I didn't expect you here so soon."

"So soon?" Murtagh asked in surprise.

"Yes, soon. I'd hoped you'd come visit some day, but I didn't expect you to for another decade at least."

"We come for aid in finding our inner peace." Thorn explained to Eragon and Saphira. "We were hoping you'd be able to help us move forward, past our crimes."

"We see," Saphira answered, as Eragon remounted, "how about you come inside, and we can see what we can do."

"Thank you," Murtagh murmured, jumping back into his saddle.

Notes:

•Unc'e Si, is supposed to be Uncle Sirius, Unc'e 'emy, is supposed to be Uncle Remus, and Unc'e 'e'er, is supposed to be Uncle Peter.

•I would also appreciate any criticisms or suggestions on how to improve my writing, be it grammar, style, or a detail I got wrong from either the Inheritance series, or the Harry Potter series

•To be continued


	2. Chapter 2

Notes:

•I seem to have forgotten to add a disclaimer in my last chapter. I do not own the rights to either the Harry Potter copyright, or the ones to the Inheritance Cycle

•I will use italics when they are speaking in the ancient language.

Chapter Two

"So," Eragon began, "you wish to start over?"

The atmosphere in the room was stifling, it was obviously Eragon's office , and equally obvious, was the fact that most of the Eldunari resided in somewhere in the space. Their presence pressed in on him, showing their undivided attention.

"Only the sane ones." Eragon replied to his thought. Murtagh looked up in surprise. Eragon smiled, "You've gotten rusty, Murtagh. And I am much better than I used to be." Murtagh checked his mental defenses, he used to have nearly impenetrable walls surrounding his mind. He bit back a curse, they were barely there. He really had gotten sloppy.

"How come I didn't feel you in my mind? Even if my defenses were down, I should have felt your presence."

Eragon frowned. "Well, yes, I suppose I have gotten rather good at being sneaky about it. I've been attempting to help the crazy Eldunari. They tend to respond better if they don't think they're under attack."

Murtagh was more confused, "Attack?"

"Ah, yes, apparently most of the Riders back in the day, only had to make their presence known in another's mind, if they were either strangers, or their enemy. To be completely undetected was the sign of a friend."

"But, wouldn't an enemy want to sneak up on you?"

"The idea, was that an enemy would try to overwhelm you, to be loud, and obnoxious, and startling. To be quiet, was a sign of respect, as well as trust, as many in those days could capture you in their mind, and drive you mad, much the same as when a human forays into the mind of an elf."

"Ah, I see." Murtagh paused, wondering how they'd gotten so off topic. "Do you think you could help me?"

"That would depend on what you really wanted."

As Murtagh considered how to put it, Thorn lost patience. He and Saphira were sitting on the other side of the room. One thing Murtagh had noticed, was that the fortress Eragon lived in, was quite unique. All of the rooms were huge, with empty space large enough for several dragons, and a much smaller section set up as a room. In Eragon's study, about a quarter of the room was furnished, and the rest was empty, but for padded hollows in the floor for the dragons to comfortably sit in.

"We wish to go somewhere where we can start over. We don't want to be feared for our past mistakes, and Murtagh wants to have a family. We hoped that you, or the Eldunari would be able to give us some options."

Murtagh glanced upwards, attempting to gage Eragon's reaction to their request. The Eldunari were muttering between themselves, protecting their conversation, and not allowing Murtagh access. Eragon, seemingly was let in on their discussion. Murtagh waited impatiently, he had always hated when people talked about him behind his back, it was his future, shouldn't he know what was going on?

Eragon picked up on his discomfort soon after the conversation had ended. "I apologize for our lack of manners…we have an idea, but it's rather…extreme, probably not what you were thinking of."

Murtagh looked to Thorn, "Is it a fresh start?" Thorn asked slowly.

Eragon grinned slightly, "About as fresh as it gets."

"Then we'll take it." Murtagh declared impulsively. He and Thorn had already decided what they wanted, and knew that to get it, they would have to be extreme.

Eragon looked shocked, and immediately cautioned them. "Easy now, how about I tell you about it before you make any decisions." Murtagh nodded his assent. "Okay, well, there was a program, one that ran back in the golden age, when the dragon riders were still in power. It wasn't very popular, even then, but some of the Eldunari mentioned it to me, so that I could set it up again in a few decades, when there are more Riders around, and we can spare some of them."

"So, where would we be going?"

"To another world." Eragon replied, "The Riders had discovered how to cross the planes of reality, and enter different ones. There are records of worlds where magic does not exist, where animals can talk, where nothing grows because of the horrors that occurred there. I could send you to one of them, if you wish."

Murtagh glanced to Thorn, concerned. "How can we know that we'll be safe? I know that I don't want to go live in some desolate wasteland."

Eragon cleared his throat, "Well, you can ask for certain characteristics when you cross. I believe that they found some of the more unpleasant worlds back before they really knew what they were doing. Some also wished to go to those worlds, to see what could happen to us, and to see if they could help."

Murtagh nodded slowly, "Alright. We'll think about it, okay?"

Saphira lifted her great head from where she had been observing the proceedings. "What Eragon failed to mention was this; you can always return. You will also be able to contact us at any time."

Eragon nodded, "There is another option as well, you two could stay here, with us. We could be your family too, this could be your new start."

Murtagh gave a real smile at this, but declined. "Thank you, Eragon, but we cannot. I would be happy to count you as family, and remain in touch, but Thorn and I can't stay here."

Thorn continued for Murtagh, who had trailed off, and did not seem likely to finish. "The Riders are yet young in their responsibility's. Murtagh and I may be dragon and Rider, but we have not earned the right to be true Shur'tugal. We would not be trusted, and you would not be either, we would stain your good name."

Eragon appeared ready to protest, but the eldest Eldunari cut in. "Young Thorn is correct. You may be willing to let them stay here, and we would too, but you have other responsibilities. Murtagh is not ready to be a Shur'tugal, and as the head of the order, you cannot shelter him here. This is the heart of the riders, and he must earn his position here." Eragon bowed his head, accepting the advice of the old dragon.

"When you are ready," Eragon finally murmured, "we will welcome you home."

"But until then," Murtagh answered decisively, "I would be honoured to accept your other offer."

Eragon simply nodded, his expression sad.

Three days later, Eragon declared himself ready. All of the additional research had been done, and he'd created the device that Murtagh would need to keep in touch with him. Now, all that needed to be done, was to finish their final discussion before Thorn and Murtagh left.

"Remember," Eragon cautioned, "it could be very different over there, the other riders who'd made multiple trips suggested to keep your mind open, so that you can pick up on initial differences and attempt to blend in."

Murtagh smiled at his half brother. He'd probably smiled more in the past three days, than he had in the past three years. "See?" Thorn pushed smugly into his mind, "I told you this was a good idea."

"Are you sure?" Eragon asked anxiously, probably for the fiftieth time.

"Yes," Thorn answered, "we are sure."

"Very well."

"Eragon," Murtagh murmured suddenly, "I do not wish to use Morzanson as my last name in my new life."

"I understand." Eragon thought for a bit. "You could use Cadocson. It was our grandfathers name. I know some who use their grandparents name when their parent is deemed unsuitable. I believe our mother would have approved. Garrow always did say that Selena loved her father." Murtagh considered it. 'Cadocson'. It was a good name, and Murtagh had always loved his mother. She could not protect him, but she had loved him, and that, he realized, was enough. He nodded briefly to Eragon, and then allowed him to continue. "Now, we are in the correct place to send you over. I have the basic phrase that must be used, now you must decide what you want to be in your new home."

Murtagh allowed Thorn to answer. He had been too undecided to put together a list of requirements, but Thorn had put together a list of everything that Murtagh really needed to be there. "We would wish for our magic to go with us. We would wish for companionship, and intelligent life, and…I would like it if there were other dragons there."

Eragon thought a bit. "Well, I can tell you that your magic will work no matter where you go. But, you want others like yourselves?"

"Yes…" Thorn began, before Murtagh interrupted.

"And I would like it if we were needed."

Eragon simply nodded. "Alright. I'm ready. Got everything you need?"

"Yes. We have everything."

"No," Saphira put in, "you don't. We wish to give you a parting gift." She had a scabbard in her claws. "You wished most for family. Family must protect itself. We wish to give you a sword, one for your family in your new life."

Eragon passed it to Murtagh. "It is called Evarínya, because it shines like the stars it was named for." The blade was white, with slight tinges of red running through it.

"It is beautiful." Murtagh complimented.

"We chose it because it was the most similar in shape to yours. It is for your family, so we thought their fighting style would be similar to yours, if you teach them. They might not fight with swords in the world you end up in."

"Thank you. We are honoured by your gift." Thorn completed the niceties, while Murtagh remained stupefied by the touching gift. It really was too much, the swords were supposed to go on to new riders when they needed them. The gift, more than anything anyone could have said, convinced Murtagh that Eragon considered him family, and wanted him to come back some day.

"Thank you." Murtagh managed to force out. His throat felt strangely tight all of a sudden, and his eyes seemingly hadn't quite adjusted to all the sunlight quite yet. They were on the 'roof' of the place, if it could really be called a roof. Eragon had set up headquarters in a mountain. Seemingly, he and Saphira had come across it on one of their afternoon flights, when they had been sailing down the river. They had gone back to get the Eldunari, for an extra opinion on the location, when all of the dragons had performed one of their feats of magic. They had hollowed out rooms and passageways right into the mountain. What would have taken the dwarfs decades to finish, Saphira, with the help of the Eldunari, had simply wished into place. Eragon had still had to furnish it, and complete several other details, such as plumbing, but all in all, it was magnificent. Eragon had insisted that what he was about to do had to be done outside, so they were currently on a large plateau above the dining hall. The dragons had prepared for a lot of dragon shaped residents when they had created the place. It had taken Eragon the better part of a month, with magic and Saphira helping, to get even the portion he used on a regular basis serviceable. Murtagh himself had improved on the guest quarters during his stay, adding several furnishings he thought might be useful. Yes, he thought to himself, it was most certainly the sunlight making his eyes water.

"Well," Eragon began, glancing at Saphira. After a silent exchange, Saphira nodded, and Eragon continued, "now, I believe that we are ready. Do remember to check in. I'll leave you some time to settle in, but if you haven't called by the end of a week, you'd better have a bloody good reason, got it?"

Murtagh took his threat contentedly. It felt good to have someone care.

"Alright. Let's get started." Murtagh could practically envision Eragon mentally rolling up his sleeves. "Stand there, at the middle of the plateau, and make sure that everything you wish to go with you is either in Thorn's saddlebags, or Murtagh's pack. Everything ready?" After Murtagh quickly checked Zar'roc, to make sure it was firmly fastened down, and quickly stashed Evarínya deep in one of Thorn's saddlebags, Murtagh was ready. "Okay, I would advise you two to be touching, and open up your mental link as much as possible. Try to be of the same mind. It'll help the magic understand what you want, more so than if it had to analyse two separate minds full of thoughts and wishes." Hesitating once more, Eragon centered himself and sunk deep into his magic. He reached out to his surroundings, immediately finding, and receiving access, to Saphira's magic. "Now," he stated calmly, focusing only on what he was about to do, "take your magic, and wrap it around yourself, as a protective layer. Some riders found the journey a bit…uncomfortable. And if you end up appearing in a hostile location, it would be best if you were defended. The magic is both more all-encompassing, protectively speaking, but hopefully also less conspicuous than arriving in full armor." Murtagh and Thorn nodded their understanding, Thorn lending his power for Murtagh to shape. "It will begin in just a moment," Eragon warned, "so brace yourselves. Travelers to distant lands, go now in peace to your new home. Find there your happiness, your family, and your fulfillment. Magic, open your doors for Murtagh and Thorn, let them pass, let them reach the place they are needed!"

It was all a swirl of light, and sound, and colour, and power. When Murtagh finally found himself aware of his surroundings, he realized that he was, in fact, above what seemed to be some sort of town. There were houses, and lights, but there were just too many things that he couldn't identify. Moving metal contraptions, with no horses to pull them. Magic wasn't pulling them either, he'd checked. Then, he realized that he was above the town. After that, he'd quickly realized that he was being held in place by Thorns claws. Thorns large, sharp, incredibly invisible claws, were holding on to what seemed to be, his equally invisible torso. Murtagh sent Thorn a questioning thought.

"Eragon made us both invisible, I believe as a sort of afterthought. It seems to be a good thing, though. I don't know how accustomed these people are to seeing dragons in the sky."

"Good." Murtagh contemplated the best way forward. "Set me down over there, okay Thorn?"

Thorn wheeled about, gliding slowly towards one of the streets below. Murtagh opened his mind, searching for anything that might provide a clue towards what kind of place they had arrived in. He gasped.

"Thorn! There are so many! So many people." He spread his awareness further, attempting to count just how many minds he could feel. "There have to be hundreds, just in this area alone." Suddenly, right below them, a new mind popped into existence. Where nobody had been before, there was now an old man, who seemed to be wearing some sort of hideous, impractical robe. It was purple, for goodness sake. "Put me down near that old man. I believe he may be one of the magic users here. He might know something of interest." That was easier said said than done. There seemed to be lanterns on poles, which had strings between them, that were too close together for Thorn to land. Then, there was another metal contraption, only it flew, and made a loud roaring noise. After that had been dodged, Murtagh lowered himself down with magic, unwilling to let the opportunity to learn about the world he'd found himself in pass. From his magically enhanced eavesdropping, he'd already discovered that the old man was called 'Dumbledore', the cat lady was called 'McGonagall', and there seemed to be some sort of terror organization led by 'Voldemort', who had recently died, after killing the parents (Lily and James) of a baby (Harry Potter), who'd then killed the man. It all seemed very interesting.

Notes:

•To be continued


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Albus Dumbledore was an old wizard, old and tired, so when he apparated onto Privet Drive, he didn't immediately notice that something was wrong. However, as he started off down the street, he began to feel a presence, he knew that he was not alone. The feeling disturbed him until he saw Minerva sitting on the steps of Number Four Privet Drive.

"Minerva!" He greeted. "How nice to find you here. I had a feeling that I wasn't alone." The stiff looking cat in front of him smoothly morphed into a stern looking woman.

"Really? Maybe you would prefer to be alone? You can't be thinking of leaving the child here, of all places!" A slight feeling of shame welled up out of Albus, but he quickly squished it down. Harry had to come here, he would be protected by the blood wards, and wouldn't have any outside magical influence until Hogwarts, where he could be moulded into the proper Saviour that the wizarding world would need. It would be best in the long run, for the Greater Good, if not for Harry himself. He knew that Lily and Petunia hadn't gotten along, but they wouldn't harm the boy, and that would have to be enough. He was the one that would have to kill Voldemort, the prophecy said so.

"It is the only way, Minerva. He must stay here, for his own protection."

"For his protection! Albus, what are you talking about? Why would Harry need protecting?"

"Voldemort may be gone, Minerva, but his followers are not. Harry can be protected here, he would be in danger from the death eaters without the protections that I can place around his Aunt's property."

"The Death Eaters! What on earth happened? I know what the rumours say, but…it can't possibly be true, can it?"

The conversation was making Murtagh's head spin. The old man…Grumblethore? was making him sick. He was thinking of a child, and planning on how to turn it into a weapon. The cat-woman didn't seem bad, but then again, Galbatorix's soldiers had only been following their leader, that didn't stop them from murdering Tornac. This Bumbleroar seemed to be fighting the good fight, those Death Eater people sounded like a bad thing, but that didn't mean that what he was doing was any better than the murder of his mentor. Murtagh knew how badly your childhood could screw you up, to purposefully place a child in a place that would 'mould him' sounded like the worst idea he'd ever heard.

The two professors were still arguing when a large, roaring metal contraption flew out of the sky. A large man got off it, he seemed to be someone that Prumblegore was waiting for. He was easily the largest man he'd ever seen, he'd probably actually be able to reach Shruikan's shoulder. Galbatorix hadn't been able to do that for decades. The large man reached into what seemed to be the metal contraption's saddlebags, and pulled out a bundle of cloth.

"I've got 'im right 'ere Pr'fess'r." The large man rumbled. "Fell asleep jus' as I were flyin' o'er Bristol."

To his horror, Murtagh realized that the bundle of cloth was the child that Grumbledore had been speaking of. It was a mere babe! The way they had been speaking, and thinking of the child, Murtagh had been expecting to see a small boy of about seven to ten years of age, this one didn't look like it could walk reliably yet! That old man was planning the abuse of a baby, he was expecting it to grow up to be the saviour of their nation! It was abominable!

Thorn looked down upon the scene below. Her human was upset. The wrinkly ones and the large one all acted terribly sad to be giving the hatchling up, especially the large one, but Thorn agreed with Murtagh. They were giving the hatchling up, to people that none of them trusted. Hatchlings were precious, and these humans were treating the infant like so much garbage. Saphira had told him that there was a possibility of her having an egg with Fírnen sometime soon. It would be the first new dragon egg in over a century. That hatchling would be coddled, protected, watched every second until it could defend itself. It wouldn't matter if Saphira and Fírnen both died, the Eldunarì, Eragon, the elves, even the dwarves would love to step in to protect the hatchling. Why should this one be any different? It made no sense to the dragon.

Murtagh watched as the large man dumped the babe on the doorstep of one of the dwellings along the street. Within minutes all three had left, the woman transforming back into a cat, the large man to return the metal contraption to a 'Sirius Black', and the old man to…Murtagh didn't know. He had vacated the old mans mind more than a minute before he left. The way he was orchestrating this child's, Harry's life was disturbing to say the least. Murtagh looked around once more, and, seeing nothing, allowed himself to slowly become visible once more.

"Thorn," he sent to his companion, "I would stay hidden for now. We still don't know how common dragons are in these parts." He loped over to the front porch and carefully picked up the infant on the steps. Murtagh didn't have much experience with small children, but he knew enough to keep the child safe for the night. He didn't even have to tell Thorn that they would be staying till morning, they had asked to be sent where they were needed, and there wasn't anyone else in that area that needed more help than little Harry Potter.

Harry was so very sleepy, but he was also hungry, and there was finally someone holding him properly, and he was warm, so that must mean…!

"Mama!" Harry asked, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. When he did so, however, he realized that it was not Mama. The person holding him didn't smell right, and didn't have Mama's pretty red hair. He was also a boy. Like Dada or Unc'e Si. But Harry didn't recognize the person holding him. "Who?"

The man startled, as if he had been asleep, but that was silly, cause who sleeps with their eyes open?

The child was awake. Murtagh had been holding him in his arms all night long, so when the infant started squirming, he noticed immediately. However, he was attempting to learn more about the world that he had found himself in. He and Thorn were stretching out their minds, lightly touching the minds of the people around them who had just started to wake up. It was so different. They didn't believe in magic, they believed in something called 'science'. He seemed to recall that the King of Surda dabbled a bit in 'science', but he'd always been something of a joke, not something to take seriously. These people were all so petty, too. He tried not to be too invasive, he'd never enjoyed invading other people's privacy, but these people! Even on the very outer limits of their minds, they were constantly judging other people, wanting things, when they had more than most people in Alagaësia could ever dream of.

"Mama!" The child's voice broke through his rambling thoughts. The child thought he was his mother? Murtagh looked down at the infant, just to see it's face fall. "Who?" Murtagh was surprised. He hadn't expected the child to speak so well.

"My name is Murtagh, little one." He murmured softly. "We're here to speak with your Aunt."

The child began to cry. Murtagh was panicking a little, until Thorn inserted himself into his thoughts. "The child is most likely hungry. Young dragons require at least a handful of meat every couple hours, human children should be similar. I see some rabbits, should I catch one for you?"

"No, no," Murtagh assured quickly, "human children aren't supposed to have meat until they grow enough teeth. I doubt this one is old enough yet."

Thorn grumbled a laugh. "Humans are so strange. No teeth? How do they survive? Your teeth are your only valuable weapons that you come equipped with."

"Well," Murtagh explained, "while young dragons are expected to fend for themselves, the parents of young humans must look after them for a significantly longer period, four, maybe five years."

"How odd." Thorn commented. "You strange creatures are so defenceless, so useless for the first years of your life. The care-givers have to waste those same years looking after them, their whole lives must revolve around the hatchling. Are you sure we should keep this one?"

"What?" Murtagh exclaimed, "What do you mean?"

"What do you mean, silly human? We both know that you decided to claim the hatchling moments after you learnt of it. You believe that he is the reason we're here, the reason we're needed. Now, feed the child before its wailing wakes the entire neighbourhood."

"Ah, right. Now, where could we get food?" Murtagh looked around him. There still wasn't anything that looked like food, and he had no idea how to get somewhere where he could find some. He supposed there must be some inside the houses, in fact, the humans that were awake all had one thing in common, they were all thinking of breakfast, and their kitchen. However, one thing that Murtagh knew, was that babies drank milk, and he could not see any cows nearby, so these people must not drink it.

Murtagh began to sense a presence moving about inside the house. They had all been asleep until quite recently, but he didn't think it quite decent to bother them until a decent hour of the morning, however, the infant was beginning to wail, so up and about would have to do. He got up and knocked on the door, clutching the boy and the letter that Grumblethore had left tightly.

"Coming!" Murtagh heard an exasperated voice yell from inside the house. He ascertained that it was a woman, about twenty-five years old, before withdrawing his mind. He felt very rude for gleaning the minds of the others on the street, but he was actually going to meet this one, and he had boundaries. "I'm coming!"

The door opened abruptly, and Murtagh saw a tall, thin woman with hair that was already escaping the ties that she had attempting to control it with. "Hello." He greeted awkwardly. "I have something of great importance to discuss with you this morning, about a Mr Harry Potter. I believe he is a relation of yours?" The woman appeared frightened and went to close the door, before changing her mind.

"You said Harry Potter? Son of Lily Evans and James Potter?"

Murtagh paused, unsure of how to proceed. He decided to go for the direct approach. "I'm not sure, exactly. There was an old man, some professor, a lady that could turn into a cat, and a large man on a flying motorcycle that put a baby they called Harry Potter on your front porch. I sat with him through the night, to make sure nothing happened to him. The lady who turned into a cat might have mentioned a Lily and James, I'm not certain."

The woman was petrified for a few moments before she hurriedly ushered him inside. "In, get in, these topics are not to be discussed in public."

Murtagh stepped inside hesitantly. It was so clean. He was used to stone, or rough boards, with dirt ground into the floors. This, this was pristine. "Sorry about the mess. My Dudders is just such a handful now, I barely have time to clean up." He snorted.

"It's absolutely fine."

"Is that Harry?" The woman asked hesitantly.

"Yes, I believe so. You are his Aunt?"

"Petunia, Petunia Dursely. I don't know why you brought the child here. Lily and I haven't spoken in years." The woman, Petunia murmured bitterly. She did not seem to want her nephew.

"You are unwilling…" Murtagh began, before Petunia interrupted suddenly.

"Wait, Dumbledore was going to leave the child on the front porch? Alone? In this weather?"

"You forget," Murtagh added sarcastically, "he left you a letter."

"A letter." Petunia stated. "Albus Bloody Dumbledore left my nephew and a letter on the front porch? He's only a child, why, if you hadn't come along, the child could have died! Speaking of that, who are you? Why are you here?"

"My name is Murtagh. I am here, because the child needed me."

"Murtagh. What kind of name is Murtagh? Where are you from? Are you…different? Like Lily?"

"Different? I certainly am diifferent, at least to you. I'm not from around these parts. However, I do not believe that Lily was like me."

Petunia looked hesitant. "You saw the flying motorcycle, the lady who turned into a cat. Lily could do that. She was a…was a…a witch. Her husband was a wizard." Petunia sounded horrified and disgusted by the very idea, but Murtagh caught a glimpse of longing in her eyes, long suppressed, but still there.

"I am not a wizard." Murtagh stated. Petunia visibly relaxed. "However," Murtagh continued, "as I said earlier, I'm not exactly normal either. I would like to raise your nephew. I don't believe that you want him, and I believe that he needs me."

Petunia looked as if she desperately wanted to foist Harry off onto Murtagh, but she proved that she did care, only tempted for a minute. "What do you mean, needs you? I won't just hand over my nephew, even if I don't want him in my house. I certainly want what's best for him, and I don't even know you."

Murtagh was satisfied. He knew that Petunia didn't want Harry, that she was scared of him, in fact, but at least he could work with her. If she'd just handed the infant over, Murtagh truly believed that his anger would have snapped. "As I said before, I'm not from around here. I came here from another world, magically. I was sent somewhere I'd be needed, and I ended up right in front of little Harry. Magic thinks he needs me, and I learned early on, not to argue with magic."

Petunia stared at him sharply for a moment. "Prove it." She finally said. Murtagh thought for a bit, and came up with an idea.

"I can show you." He suggested. "Hold Harry, would you?" After passing her the child, Murtagh dug out a piece of slate from his bags. He'd prepared it before he left with all the pigments he could have needed to make a fairth. He knew just what to make. Murtagh concentrated on the newest map of Alagaësia that he could remember, and then added some of his own whimsical details. He had a tiny image of Thorn curled up in the far north, a little blue dragon's egg in the Spine, to represent Saphira, a tiny Tornac fighting valiantly in front of Uru'baan, Brom's tomb sparkling on the hill outside Dras'Leona, and other such details. It captured some of the moments that he wanted to remember about his old life. Murtagh handed the slate to Petunia. She passed back Harry. "That is the country where I come from."

Petunia was shocked. This man created an image on a stone without a wand, a potion, or any other nonsense that Lily was forever spouting off about. Therefore, she concluded, he must be different than Lily. That he could do magic made Petunia believe everything that he'd told her. She did not have the magical knowledge to doubt that a magic user could travel to another world, for all she knew, Lily could too. She didn't need the details. She only had one question for him.

"If you aren't from Earth, how do you speak English?"

Murtagh considered this, and answered with another question. "If you aren't from Alagaësia, how do you speak Common?" Petunia could not refute that logic.

"You…you want Harry?"

"I think he needs me." Murtagh replied.

"I…I won't be able to handle him." Petunia confessed. "Vernon thinks that my sister is a freak, and…and I don't tell him otherwise. I won't be able to love my nephew, but I do want what's best for him. Even if you aren't the same as him, you'll be able to relate to him better, to help him. You seem alright, you could have just stolen him in the night, or left him on the porch, but you stayed with him, and you met with me, instead of treating me the way Dumbledore does, leaving the child on the porch with a letter. Take him."

"There's one last thing that I need from you. Firstly, I was hoping that you might be able to advise me on what to feed the child, and then, how to acquire more of that food. I also need to learn more about this world, I understand very little."

"I see." Petunia murmured. "Of course. I can give you one of Dudley's bottles of milk for now, and perhaps a bit of cereal, or baby food. I've forgotten how old Harry is, children eat different foods at different ages. As for learning more about this world, I would suggest that you go to the local library. As long as you can read in English, it should be able to tell you all that you'd need to know."

Murtagh thanked her as she went to the refrigerator to prepare Harry a bottle of milk. He would have to look into this 'public library'.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Petunia returned as quickly as possible with the milk. After feeding her Dudders for nearly two years now, she could tell the symptoms of a hungry child, even if they couldn't talk. She felt slightly guilty about foisting her own nephew off onto a virtual stranger, but Petunia had a good feeling about the young man that had come to claim the child before she even knew she was responsible for it. She spent a lot of time watching people, that was because she had always enjoyed reading them. Seeing past the exterior, into the meaning of their words and expressions. She had thought about going into psychology when she was younger, she had figured that that was the field her peculiar gift would be useful in. But she was happiest as a housewife, a mother. She didn't need anything else.

"I've brought a bottle of milk." She announced softly, before reaching into her pocket. "I also drew a map on how to get to the closest library. Do you…do you think…" Petunia stuttered to a stop. She didn't know how to say what she wanted, no she needed. Dumbledore had broken her heart through a letter once before, she wanted to know what this second one said. What he felt was appropriate to say, in a letter, pinned to a baby, just after her sister died. She needed to know.

"Do you want to read the letter?" Murtagh asked suddenly. "I figured that was what you were getting at, seeing as that was exactly what I did after mulling things over."

"Yes, please." Petunia said faintly. Murtagh handed over a piece of parchment. It didn't look like anything special to him, he was used to parchment, but it looked alien to Petunia, strange and abnormal. She instinctively didn't like it. Opening it, Petunia began to read.

'Dear Mrs Dursely née Evans,

I have left your nephew, Harry Potter in your care. Lily and James have died. I don't have much time, just know that you must keep him with you now. By bringing him into your home, you have adopted him, and that is binding in the magical world. In case you aren't aware of the protections surrounding magical bonds, if the bond is broken, the magic will exact its revenge. Someone will come for Harry by the time he's ready for Hogwarts.

Sincerely,

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore,

Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry'

Petunia was shocked. "He…he tricked me. Now I have to keep Harry. I thought you said you'd read it! Why didn't you mention it was cursed? I never would have allowed him in my home!"

"Petunia," Murtagh interrupted. She didn't pay any attention. "Petunia, listen to me. Just because I'm not a wizard doesn't mean I don't know how to recognize their spells. There were wizards in my old world too. I checked out the spell Dumbledore placed, and it was very specific. It attached itself to the person who carried Harry into your home. I made sure to do that myself. The spell acknowledges me as his guardian, not you."

"Oh," Petunia paused, "I see. Is that why you stayed? Because you needed to get in to become Harry's guardian?"

"No, Petunia." Murtagh replied. "I could have broken in if that's all I wanted. I stayed because you had a right to a choice, to a say in your nephew's life. You had a right to have someone tell you that your sister died, instead of hearing about it in a letter. That's why I stayed." Petunia was quiet for a moment, and seemed slightly weepy.

"Thank you."

Murtagh stood up abruptly. It was nearly time for him to go. He could hear her husband moving about upstairs. "Is there anything I need to know about him?" He asked, a tone of finality in his voice. "I know his parents are dead, but is there anyone who'll miss him? Anyone I should look for? A legacy that I need to pass on?" Murtagh saw the slight confusion in Petunia's eyes. "I'm keeping him, but I know what it's like to not know your family. I had a half-brother, a cousin, an uncle, without knowing it for most of my life. I didn't know much about my mother at all. I wouldn't wish that on any child."

"Umm," Petunia seemed to wrack her memory. "There's only me left on Lily's side of the family. I don't have much to say. If he ever wants to know about his grandparents, then you can contact me. Send a letter, I'd prefer not to have direct contact with the magic world. It's dangerous, Lily always told me that, and I can't protect my family. My parents were killed by wizards, because they were connected to Lily. I'm not putting Dudley in that kind of danger. James…I don't really know. He had several close friends. I don't know anything about his family, but a Remus Lupin came to my parent's funeral with Lily and James. Apparently the others wouldn't know how to blend in, so Lily made them keep away. She didn't want to attract attention. You might contact him, he'd know more."

"I see," Murtagh murmured. "I'll try that. Thank you. I may be in contact again later. Don't worry, I can be discreet."

Murtagh flew through the air, child carefully secured to Thorn's back as they searched for an appropriate place to rest and set up camp. They had decided that it would be best not to attempt to find lodgings for Murtagh in any local tavern or inn. He didn't really know how to fit in, plus, he had no money. He and Thorn had thought that it would be best to be discreet, lay low for a while. However, he would need to feed Harry again soon. He'd gone to the library that Petunia had suggested, and was astonished by the the variety and volume of books. It looked like more books than fit in Galbatorix's personal collection, and he had been King. He'd decided to start small. Leaving Harry with Thorn, he'd gone in and asked for a book on babies. Based on the variety of books he'd seen just looking for someone to direct him, had assured him that the topic would be covered somewhere. There was, in fact, an entire shelf of them. After that revelation, he discovered that he could take some of the books with him! Of course, he'd needed a library card, and that required something known as "I. D.", but it was fairly simple for Murtagh to reach into the man's mind and create a replica of what he was expecting. He now had a real library card, and a fake drivers license. He supposed they were required to ride the strange metal contraptions, what were they…oh yes, Cars. Harry began to stir. He'd only been slightly awake at Petunia's, falling into a fitful slumber once inside, drifting in and out, drinking the milk on reflex. He'd stopped crying once he heard Petunia. Perhaps she sounded like his mother.

"Mama?" The child asked helplessly. "Dada? Unc'e Si? Unc'e 'emy?" Murtagh grimaced. Now that the child wasn't distracted by fatigue and hunger, of course it was going to want it's parents. And whomever 'Unc'e Si' and 'Unc'e 'emy' were. It mentioned that the child would want eople that were familiar to him in the book he'd picked up at the library, one called a 'babysitter's manual'. The man who worked there suggested it when he heard that Murtagh would be taking care of a child by himself for a while, with no previous experience. From a scale in the book, he figured that the child would be fine with the food he had in the saddle bags, as long as it was mashed up, so that wasn't going to be his biggest problem, as he'd feared. He had no idea how to get milk here. The biggest problem would be connecting with the child, keeping it happy.

"Mama and Dada aren't here." Murtagh explained quietly. "They've…gone away." He didn't want to upset the child, he knew he'd been desolate when Morzan bluntly stated that his mother was dead. He wouldn't do that to Harry.

The child kept crying. Murtagh didn't know exactly how old Harry was, whether he knew enough to understand Murtagh or not, but he clearly wasn't helping. The child started to dribble snot down his nose, and Murtagh had no idea what to do. Desperate times called for desperate measures. He began to root around in the saddlebags.

Eragon heard Murtagh's voice coming from his scrying mirror. He was surprised, he hadn't expected him to contact him so soon. In fact, he'd rather doubted any contact from him for the next several years.

"Eragon!" Murtagh called into the mirror. "ERAGON! Hurry up, you slimy offspring of an Urgal, it's a emergency!"

Harry's cries grew louder, and finally, finally Murtagh saw Eragon rush into view, Saphira poking her nose through the door behind him.

"Slimy offspring of an Urgal, Murtagh? You wound me." Eragon replied. "Wait, who's that? Where did you get an infant, in…ten hours?"

"Where you sent me," Murtagh huffed, "I wanted to go somewhere I was needed, apparently that was with Harry. He needs me."

"Ah." Eragon murmured quietly. "I see. What is it that you need, then? You did say it was an emergency?"

"I don't know what to do!" Murtagh cried desperately. "Harry's crying, and I don't know how to stop him!"

"Hmm." Eragon contemplated his dilemma. "Have you tried singing to him? That's what Katrina does when Ismira, my niece is upset."

"Singing?" Murtagh questioned faintly. He only had the barest recollection of any songs appropriate fora child Harry's age. He was much more familiar with war marches, and pub songs, all wildly inappropriate as lullabies.

"Yeah. Did Selena ever sing you that song about Du Weldenvarden? The one with the trees that danced in the wind? Aunt Miriam sang it to me as a child, and Garrow said the he and our mother had it sung to them as children too."

Murtagh did remember the song. It had been beautiful, soft and sweet, something that he and his mother had shared, a memory untainted by Morzan's presence.

"Yeah…thanks Eragon. I'll get in touch once I'm a bit more settled."

"It was good to hear from you." Eragon replied. The mirror went blank seconds later. Harry was still crying. Murtagh began to sing. His voice was a little rough, and the tune was lost a bit in the wind, but Harry finally stopped sobbing. A few tears trickled down his cheeks, but once Murtagh wiped them away, and picked him up for a hug, he finally seemed better.

Murtagh looked down at the child. He was grabbing at one of the strings that tied Thorn's saddle together. He was happy for now, but Murtagh knew that he was out of his depth. He went back to the saddlebags. He really needed to finish that book.


End file.
